


In the Blood Soaked Sand

by PInnsmouth



Category: Amphibia (Cartoon)
Genre: Battle, Gen, Gladiators, Prequel, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PInnsmouth/pseuds/PInnsmouth
Summary: Grime has spent his career becoming the most feared fighter in the whole Colosseum. But, in doing so, he has drawn the attention of King Andrias.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	In the Blood Soaked Sand

The sun was hot, and the coppery stench of blood hung in the air. 

The colosseum was crowded today, more than usual. Excited fans packed the stands, pressing forward to get as close to the action as possible. Hawkers walked up and down the aisles, peddling cold drinks and hot, greasy food to anyone who would listen. Far above, gullflies circled, looking for a chance to get some fresh meat.

All in all, it was a fine day to die.

In the middle of the sandy arena stood a lone newt. He was panting heavily, and clutched his arm. Blood poured from between his fingers, soaking into the ground. One of the mosquitos had punched right through his thin bronze armor, and from the grinding pain, it might have even chipped the bone. No time to think about that now. He had impaled the first one early in the battle, but had foolishly left his flank undefended. Now, the remaining insect skittered in a wide circle around him, looking for another opening. 

Their wings had been clipped so they couldn’t fly away, but they were still able to dart forward with blinding speed. The newt cursed himself for forgetting that. He knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of making that mistake a second time...

The monstrous mosquito edged closer, it’s eyes blank and unreadable. A few rivulets of blood dripped down the wickedly sharp proboscis. The young gladiator took a few steps back as he fought off another wave of panic. _Okay Markus, just relax. Ignore how much your arm hurts. Don’t think about how the mosquito saliva is making you bleed out even faster._ The insect took a tentative step forward. Testing his defences. Did it sense his weakness? He risked a glance behind him, at the entrance to the Colosseum barracks. Behind a metal grate, he saw a familiar silhouette.

The figure locked eyes with Markus. It gave a slight nod.

Markus grinned, his heart welling with fresh confidence. _Of course I can do it!_ He thought. _We’ve trained for situations just like this!_ Suddenly, he heard a harsh, angry buzzing, and instinctively he dropped to the ground.

Markus hit the hot sand, and the mosquito rocketed over his head as the spectators roared in approval. The giant insect landed hard, stumbling. It was unaccustomed to fighting without being able to fly properly. Markus saw his chance, and took it. 

Using his tail as a spring, he launched himself forward, trident outstretched. Before the mosquito realized what was happening, the barbed prongs sank into its abdomen with a spray of purplish red ichor. It wailed a high pitched shriek, before collapsing into the sand.

The Crowd went wild.

As the warrior cut down the final Mosquito, Grime chuckled. The boy had made good progress since he had first arrived. Markus lifted his trident to the sky as another cheer ripped through the stands.

“What do you think, Grimesy?”

Grime looked over his shoulder. Moor was behind him, leaning on a wall for support. “The boy has talent. I think he’ll go far.” He turned back towards the entrance. “How’s the leg?”

Moor winced “The docs say it’ll heal up in about a week. I’ve had worse.” He stepped forward to stand beside him. “You know, I heard the King’s watching today.” He glanced at Grime out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.

“Hmm.”

“Pretty exciting!” Moor continued. “They must have something special planned.” Again, he looked at Grime expectantly.

“Mmhmm.”

There was a short silence. “So, uh, you’re up soon, right? Any idea what they’ve got you up against?”

“None. But something tells me you do.” Grime continued to watch the arena, unfazed. “Have you been snooping again?”

“Possibly.” Moor grinned. “And I might be willing to tell you some _very_ valuable information. In exchange for-”

“Not interested.”

Moor blinked. “What, are you sure? Grime, I know you like playing up the strong mysterious thing, but you’ll want to hear about this.”

“It’s not as if knowing will change the outcome.” Said Grime flatly. “I’ll win either way.”

“No Grime, I’m serious.” Moor insisted. “They had to reinforce one of the large cages…” His sentence dwindled off as Grime turned and strode back towards the barracks.

“I’ll see you later, Moor.” Grime said, waving dismissively over his shoulder. “I need to get ready.” 

_That crazy bastard._ Moor thought as he watched him leave. _He’s gonna get himself killed._ And yet, as he turned back to the arena, Moor couldn’t shake the feeling that Grime was right. That no matter who he faced in battle, Grime’s victory was, and always would be, a foregone conclusion.

. . .

  
As he donned his armor, Grime found himself deep in thought. Moor had so much potential, and yet, he still had so much to learn before he could become a champion. Oh, he had the right instincts of course. Knowing your opponent is the key to victory, any fool could tell you that. And scouting the enemy ahead of time? Well, that was just common sense. 

But what he missed, what everyone seemed to miss, was who the enemy actually _was_. Because it wasn’t whatever monster of the week they dragged into the colosseum to show off like a parade float. And it wasn’t the rival gladiators, striving for glory, at each other's throats day and night. They were merely obstacles to be overcome.

No, a gladiator’s true enemy was The Crowd.

The Crowd was a vicious beast, hungry, cruel, and unforgiving. It fed on blood and spectacle, and left nothing in its wake. Every drop of bloodlust, every ounce of animosity in the entire city was funneled into it. Tour guides, greengrocers, perfectly normal citizens, all were consumed by The Crowd. They became its searching eyes, its ravaging claws, its howling throats. And if you allowed it to, it would tear you apart.

Grime, fully clad in bronze, stood in the entrance to the arena. The gate had opened, but he waited, just beyond the shadows.

The Crowd was not something you could defeat through sheer force. You had to tame it, break it. And above all else, you had to _feed_ it. Then, and only then, would it serve you.

“Grime. Grime. Grime.”

  
The chant started softly. Most probably by the few who had actually read the fight schedule. But it quickly spread, as the audience realised who would be fighting next. The air in the colosseum changed. No longer were they waiting for a fresh warrior to prove his worth. This was when the real fun began.

Grime had long ago learned how to tame The Crowd. What angered it. What placated it. What drove it to a frenzy. He had broken it, and now it ate from the palm of his hand.  
  


“Grime! Grime! Grime!”

The chant was building in volume and ferocity. Feet stamped marble and fists pounded railings. The Crowd began to surge as the excitement grew. They all knew what came next, and they craved it.

Now was the time. Grime strode into the arena as the chant began to reach its crescendo.

“GRIME! GRIME! GRIME!”

He strode to the center of the arena, and stopped. The noise was nearly overwhelming, each chant a tidal wave that left nothing in its wake. Sand shuddered and windows shook as each wave broke, to be replaced by the next.

Grime looked upwards, towards the King’s Box. Steeped in shadow, he saw the fearsome figure of his Lord, King Andrias. Grime smiled. Today was a good day.

**“GRIME! GRIME! GRIME!”**

**  
****  
** This was why his opponent didn’t matter. Because he had beaten the crowd, he had earned its respect. It belonged to him now, and this meant he could never be beaten. With a single fluid motion, Grime unsheathed his sword and lifted it to the sky, saluting his Master.  
The Crowd roared as one.

  
  


. . .

  
  


“ _Him_ , my King? Are you sure?”

“No, not entirely.” Said Andrias, his normally booming voice kept low. “But I’ve read the reports on him. He has potential.”

“That savage has potential for military command?” Lady Olivia glanced down at the carnage below. The Toad warrior laughed as he cut one of the leeches in two with a single stroke. “With all due respect Lord, I have trouble believing that.”

“Ah, Olivia. That’s because you’re merely looking at him, and not truly _seeing_.” Andrias said in that infuriating, patronizing tone of his. “Look past the surface of the water, to what lies beneath.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. She would never understand the King’s obsession with riddles and games, but she did her best to humor him. As instructed, she watched the match continue, trying to see what Andrias wanted her to see. But all she saw was a Toad reveling in battle. His footwork was sloppy, his attacks wasteful. A few quick stabs could end the fight in moments, and yet the toad _insisted_ on hacking his opponents to pieces.

“Do you see it?”

“Ah, yes…” Said Olivia slowly, desperately trying to figure out what Andrias could be referring to. “I think I understand what you mean now…”

“Mmh.” The king sounded unconvinced. He leaned back in his chair. “Well, no matter. This is all childs play for him. Which is why I made some special arrangements this morning.”

“Special...” Olivia’s mind quickly went over today’s schedule. “The meeting with the Royal Menagerie? How does that-” Suddenly, her eyes widened as the realization struck her. “My Lord, please don’t tell me _that’s_ what the meeting with the Director Husk was about! Every animal in the menagerie is a city treasure!”

“Treasure is meant to be spent, Olivia.” 

“But Andrias-”

“Hush Olivia, what’s done is done, making a fuss won’t change things. Besides…” Andrias smiled. “I think seeing how this Grime deals with unexpected situations is well worth the cost.”

  
  


. . .

  
  


Grime brought the sword down on the last leech, splitting the rubbery flesh with ease. The ruined, bloody mass hit the ground. _Leeches? Really?_ He thought to himself. _This had better just be a warmup, I haven’t had trouble fighting leeches since my first month!_

He flicked his sword, sending a spray of their foul blood across the sand. Despite his mild disappointment, he raised his arms in victory. Some things were just expected of you, after all.

He shouted to the crowd triumphantly, when his eyes passed over the King’s Box. Lord Andrias wasn’t even watching! Instead, he was having a conversation with someone beside him, likely one of his courtly advisors. A flash of annoyance sparked through Grime. _You come to witness one of the greatest fighters of the colosseum in battle, and you spend your time discussing politics?_ Then, without warning, the King looked directly at Grime.

In that instant, time seemed to freeze in place. Grime had come face to face with the most horrific monsters in Amphibia in this arena. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to King Andrias. His limbs felt cold, his sword heavy. He had to fight to resist falling to his knees. The breath froze in his lungs. The noise of The Crowd was muffled, unimportant, as the entire world shrank to a pinpoint. Those eyes weren’t looking _at_ him, they looked _through_ him. They saw through the facade, the bravado. They cut through him, leaving his true self bare to the world. Those eyes were searching for a single grain, a single atom of worthiness in Grime. And deep down, Grime was terrified of what would happen if they didn’t find any.

And just like that, it was over. The noise of the colosseum rushed back, and he could breathe again. It had happened so quickly, that Grime wasn’t entirely certain it had even happened at all. He looked back at Andrias, and saw a disarmingly warm smile as the King looked to the edge of the Arena and nodded.

Grime whirled around in time to see a guard nod in return and scurry off into the holding pens. The remaining guards, the ones who stood by the entrance to ensure no monsters escaped the arena, suddenly looked a lot more nervous. Something was wrong.

A deafening screech echoed from the holding area, and The Crowd fell silent. They could feel it too. Something was happening, something special. 

_Damn you Moor!_ cursed Grime. _Maybe I should have listened to you, just this once! What in Frog’s name do they have locked up back there?_

Another screech, louder this time. Grime winced and fought the instinct to clutch his ears. Doing that in battle could cost him his life.

A low grinding noise began to echo from the big gate, the gate used to bring in monsters that whole teams of gladiators would fight. He saw something in the darkness, a brief flash of claws and teeth. The _teeth_. Some instinct in the back of Grime’s brain was shouting at him, screaming at him. 

With agonizing slowness, the gate rose. As the entire colosseum held its breath, the _thing_ entered the arena.

  
  


. . .

  
  


“Mommy, mommy, where is he?” The child cried, tugging at his mother’s dress. 

“Hush hush, I don’t know sweetie, just give me a second-” Marissa Etoile glanced around the room, mortified. Little Tommy had been looking forward to this trip to the Royal Menagerie all week, and today of all days his favorite monster was not in its normal habitat. Already, the other families were starting to stare. 

Finally, she saw someone who seemed to work here, a tall thin newt with pale grey skin. He seemed to be in a rather happy mood.  
“Oh, sir, excuse me sir!” Marissa shouted as politely as possible. She walked after him, dragging the distraught Tommy. “Could I have a moment of your time, please?”

The Newt turned with a big smile. “Certainly Madame! I am Husk, director of the Menagerie, so I will be able to help with whatever you need!”

 _The director, what luck!_ Thought Marissa. “Well, you see, me and little Tommy here have been planning this trip to the Menagerie all week-”

“Splendid! There is no better place to learn about all the wondrous fauna in Amphibia! In fact, we will be opening a new wing very shortly, I should think.”

“Ah, yes…” Said Marrisa, trying to retake control of the conversation. “But you see, the thing is, Tommy’s favorite exhibit does not appear to be here right now.” She pointed at the empty exhibit with the ‘closed’ sign plastered across the glass. “I don’t suppose it’s been moved, has it?”

“Oh-” For a moment, Director Husk’s smile faltered. “Ah yes, you are referring to the Gargantuan Gila Monster of Everglade?”

“Yes, precisely!”

“Wee-eeelll…” Husk coughed “I’m afraid that that specimen is currently… on loan. And it may not be returning. However!” He leaned down to Tommy’s level, the smile returning. “If giant ferocious lizards are something you like, I have a few exhibits that are _my_ personal favorite. In fact…” He switched to the loud whisper that adults use to make children think they’re in on some secret. “I could talk to the handlers, and see if they’ll let you help with the feeding.”

Tommy’s face lit up, the disappearance of his favorite monster outweighed by the prospect of throwing fish for other monsters to devour. Husk gave an exaggerated wink to Marissa, who smiled gratefully. Maybe today wouldn’t be so awful after all.

  
  


. . .

  
  


Grime had never been an optimist. It had never really suited him, he found that when he tried to see the best in the world around him, he always wound up disappointed. Still, he had to admit, at least the creature’s deafening shriek meant he didn’t have to hear the screams of the crowd as they fled the stadium. 

Despite being twice as tall as Grime, the black and orange monstrosity moved with surprising speed, it’s trunk like tail whipping up dust clouds behind it. On an instinct, Grime jumped to the side just as the massive scythe-like claws crashed into the ground. It wasn’t until he landed that he realized a hot stream of blood was pouring down his back. The thing had barely grazed him, and it sliced through his armor like it wasn’t even there. At least he didn’t feel any pain, although that might not be a _good_ sign.

This was wrong. This was all wrong! The Crowd isn’t supposed to be _scared_ of the fight, that’s not how this is supposed to work! Grime flipped the sword in his grip and swiped at the monster’s leg before jumping away. It barely penetrated the beast’s thick hide, and only a tiny trickle of blood seeped from the cut. It probably didn’t even feel that.

The Gila Monster turned it’s head towards Grime, the black tongue tasting the air. A clear liquid dripped from its mouth. _Venom_ . Thought Grime. _And a lot of it. Still, with the size of this thing, I doubt that venom is what would do me in._ He shifted his weight, ready to jump again. He wasn’t able to outrun this thing, but the creature seemed bad at changing directions. He would have to use that to his advantage.

Grime looked at his sword. He’d carried it since his first colosseum battle. He had polished it every night, maintained it’s razor edge as best he could. He might as well have been armed with a toothpick, for all the good it would do him.

Still, it was better than nothing, if only just. He scanned the arena for any other options, and his gaze landed on the King’s Box. Andrias sat there, his hands folded, his gaze unerring. _What is he doing?_ Grime wondered.

The frantic charge of the Gila Monster snapped Grime back to reality. He jumped high, and with his sword pointing downwards, landed on the monster’s back. He bore all his weight on the blade, driving it as deeply as possible. The sword jerked to the side, skidding off of bone. Grime flattened his body against the creature as it’s tail whipped overhead, grabbing the handle of the sword to secure himself. The Gila Monster writhed, trying to shake the biting flea from it’s back.

 _No use! Frog damnit!_ Grime cursed to himself, struggling to stay on the writhing beast. _My weapon can’t go deep enough to hit anything important!_

With a jolt and a wretched sucking noise, Grime’s blade popped free, and Grime with it. He soared across the arena, and slammed into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. A spiderweb of cracks raced up the wall. This time, he felt it.

Grimes’ gaze fuzzed in and out of focus. His lungs refused to work. He tasted copper. Through the blur, he saw the monster tasting the air again, turning towards Grime. The thing couldn’t see very well at least. _Your sword_ . Said a small part of Grime’s mind. _You dropped your sword_. Still half blind for pain, he frantically scrabbled for the handle in the sand until he found it. He lifted his weapon so it pointed at the oncoming monster. 

He paused for a moment, unsure of what he was seeing. In his hand was a small toy hammer, made of tin. One of the novelty ones they sold in the gift shop. It must have been dropped by someone in the audience. Along its side in bright friendly letters was painted ‘Have a Rip-Roaring Good Time at the Colosseum!’.

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Through the haze of pain, some part of his brain found the idea of Grime, Champion of the Colosseum, fighting with a toy hammer indescribably hilarious. If only he had some nails, maybe he could do some real damage. Ha!

Then, a different part of his brain snapped to attention, cutting through the fog. The vicious, cunning part. The part that had saved his life more times than he could count. _A hammer and nails._

With a roar, the Gila Monster charged.

Wildly, Grime looked around, doing his best to ignore the grinding pain in his neck. _There!_ His sword lay a few feet away, stuck blade first into the ground. The monster was closing fast. Tossing the hammer aside, Grime rolled to his weapon and wrenched it free. But the monster was here, bearing down on him like a stone from a catapult.

Gritting his teeth, Grime clenched the sword in both hands, and launched himself head on at the creature. He soared just above the outstretched, toothy maw and slammed into the monster’s surprised face. He felt a sharp pain in his leg, but he ignored that too, and plunged the sword with all his might into the beast's eye. There was a wet pop, and the beast screamed, rearing back in pain and anger. Not wasting any time, Grime jumped away, leaving the sword behind.

The Gila Monster, hungry, enraged, and half blind, screamed again. This wasn’t what it wanted. It should be back home, being fed fish, not being starved and pricked and stabbed. But the enemy had injured it, so the enemy must die. It whipped it’s head around searching for the offending creature. Nothing. It’s tongue flicked out again, tasting the air. It scented the tiniest hint of it’s hated foe, and looked upward.

Grime had jumped halfway up the wall, and had dug his claws into the stonework. The cracks from his impact on the wall had loosened several of the stone blocks, and now Grime was trying with all his might to yank one loose. With a muffled grinding noise, it began to shift. His legs were numb, and his lacerated back screamed, but with one last heave, the stone block slid free and plummeted to the earth. 

Guided by Grime, it landed directly on the pommel of the sword still embedded in the monster’s eye socket. There was a brief moment of resistance, and then the wet crack of punctured bone.

The Gila Monster screamed one last time. But not the loud, angry screams of before. Instead this was a soft whimpering scream, as it’s body began to shut down, and it collapsed to the blood soaked sand with a heavy thump.

With the last of his strength, Grime shakily got to his feet. The stands were silent, the onlookers staring in stunned silence. There was no roar of The Crowd. No celebration of victory.

And then, a hollow empty clapping echoed through the colosseum. Looking upwards, Grime saw Andrias smiling, satisfied, in his private box, as he applauded Grime. Slowly, the spectators followed his lead, until the entire stadium was filled with the adoration of The Crowd. At that moment, Grime should’ve felt overjoyed. But instead, he didn’t feel anything. Even his back didn’t hurt anymore. 

Glancing down, he realised why. A puncture in his leg, undoubtedly from one of the monster’s teeth when he had jumped onto its face. The venom had already spread through his body. 

Grime was surprised to find that he felt relieved, as the ground opened up and darkness swallowed him. Finally, he could rest.


End file.
